I'll Be Your Friend
by food4thought
Summary: 5 times Santana didn't help Kurt when he was bullied and the 1 time she did.  Not exactly angst-y, but definitely not fluffy.


Five times Santana almost helped Kurt and one time she did.

This is some random drabble that I felt like writing. I don't even know why, so please excuse if it is horrible. XD

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1.

Santana leaned against the lockers outside room 210, listening to the dull chatter of a high school Spanish class. The cold metal was particularly unforgiving to her bare shoulders, and she tilted her head back, annoyed. If there was one thing (out of many) that Santana Lopez hated, it was being alone.

Where was Brittany?

Finally, a sweet, clear voice rung out from the classroom: "Can I go to the bathroom, Mr. Schue? My kidneys hurt."

Santana smothered a giggle with quivering lips.

The teacher released her with a sigh and she bounded out of the room, eyes sparkling. "Hey, San!"

"Hey. What took you so long?"

"Sorry, Mr. Schue had to give back these quizzes. I failed." She announced this perkily, but Santana felt bad. Her fluency allowed her to cut a few classes while still easily maintaining an A.

Britt couldn't afford to.

It wasn't like it mattered, though. They were both cheerleaders, so they automatically passed their classes... even if they weren't there half the time.

"Where do you wanna go? I heard this ice cream place just opened up, like two blocks from here!" The blonde licked her lips.

"Uh…" Santana glanced at her flat stomach. "Wanna go to an empty room and make out instead?"

Eyeing the cheerleader's pouty lips, Britt grinned playfully and agreed. "Sure, but I kind of need to pee. I wasn't lying when I said that."

Santana rolled her eyes but had to smirk at her friend. "Fine. Go, whatever." Even under the harsh fluorescent lights, Brittany's smile was dazzling.

They scampered down the hall where Britt slipped into the girl's bathroom. She heard the blonde's gentle footsteps on the linoleum and the creak of a stall door. But she waited outside, because, hello? It smelled like shit in there and it was a major turn off to make out with someone after you just heard them take a dump.

The girls' bathroom was situated in a small indent of WMHS's corridors. Like a pair of hidden eyes and ears, she oversaw everything that happened between the rows of ugly, tan lockers. But the hallways were empty, and uncharacteristically silent, save the muted buzz of the classrooms.

A harsh thud permeated the stillness and a hulking letterman jacket caught Santana's attention. Kurt Hummel, the flamboyant gleek, clutched his shoulder that had been apparently rammed into a locker door as Azimio loomed over him. The smaller boy's face remained impassive if not frighteningly pale.

"Yo Hummel! Haven't seen you in a while. Where you been?"

Hummel pressed his thin lips together defiantly.

"Were you getting yo girly-ass pedicures? Facials?" His yellow teeth grinned leeringly at his own joke. "I bet yo boyfriend, Hudson, gave yo a real nice one, eh?"

He seemed to flinch at the mention of Finn, but his posture remained stiff and his chin lifted as if to say _Screw you, you'll be my septic worker in a few years._

Somewhat frustrated at the unresponsive student, Azimio growled, "Well, it's real nice to see yo back. Consider this a welcome," He swiftly punched Kurt in the stomach and jogged away laughing.

Hissing in pain, the small boy shrugged on his messenger bag and strode quickly down the hall. He turned to look over his shoulder once more and his green eyes met Santana's.

For whatever reason, his posture wilted and he hurried away, clutching his bag tighter than ever. His cheeks flared in shame.

"Hey, what happened? He looks really sad."

Brittany's soft, sweet voice captured her attention and she turned to see the blonde standing beside her. A corner of Santana's mouth quirked up.

"Nothing, just the hell of being in high school."

Not quite understanding, the blonde nodded. "Wanna go make out now?"

"Sure," But Santana's voice was unenthused as she inspected the half-moon crescents left on the base of her palms. She wondered how much it had to hurt if you didn't even notice your nails digging into your fist.

Dammit, she probably just ruined her manicure.


End file.
